


Vessel

by Mandaloria593



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Sex, Clothed Sex, Dark, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Dubious Consent, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Ritual Sex, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandaloria593/pseuds/Mandaloria593
Summary: Luke accidentally leads Din through a Jedi sex ritual. Din reacts unexpectedly. Everything's on fire. Everything's fine.[Updated with a new chapter containing one take on how it might have ended.]
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 45
Kudos: 589





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jedi sex magic, you say? Yeah, I can write that. Please heed the tags.

The rain was never going to let up. It poured in an endless torrent. 

Grogu had been exhausted after his morning training session, so they had put him to bed even though it was mid-afternoon. Then they’d gone out to spar at Luke’s favorite lake. Mid-battle, the sky had opened up, and the deluge had begun.

They had taken refuge in a shallow cave behind the lake’s waterfall. They sat in the damp grotto, watching the way the rain fell into the mighty tide of the waterfall, the two sources merging and crashing together. Warm mist sprayed the air and evaporated into nothingness in the humid atmosphere. 

They could leave at any time. Neither was a stranger to braving the elements. But there was no urgent matter calling them back. Grogu slept on. And the storm was beautiful to watch. A bewitching ode to nature’s power. 

The silence between was not uncomfortable. The Mandalorian was growing more at ease with Luke every day, it seemed. They found common ground. They cooked together. They sparred occasionally. Holding the delicate balance together was each of their fierce bonds with Grogu. 

Luke should use the time to meditate, but he found it...difficult to achieve the necessary tranquility in the Mandalorian’s presence. In _Din’s_ presence. It was ironic, since the man exuded a calm certainty in everything he did, each statement and action made with careful deliberation. The problem wasn’t with Din. It was with Luke’s reaction to Din. Just being near him made Luke’s skin thrum and his heart thump in his chest. Attraction. Incredibly ill-timed attraction. Luke was supposed to be focused on training his son, not daydreaming about getting beneath the man’s armor. Or his helmet. _Stars,_ but if Luke had known how singular that moment had been on the cruiser, catching a glimpse of soulful brown eyes glassy with unshed tears, he’d have paid better attention. He was paying attention _now._ But he was relegated to stealing touches between pins to the forest floor as they fought and brushing bare hands ostensibly to check the flavor of the sauce as Din stirred and offered Luke a taste from the wooden spoon. Din’s handsome face haunted his dreams. Surely it couldn’t be as striking as Luke’s memory insisted it was. 

Giving up all pretense of meditating, Luke instead sought out the small, leaf-bound journal he’d stashed in his robes. He thumbed open the spine, and began flipping through the handwritten notes on the weathered pages. The journal was one of many tattered old texts Luke had recovered from Yoda’s hut. It hadn’t been on a shelf, like the volumes Yoda had clearly selected with careful intent. No, this journal had been in a rickety old crate, along with numerous other loosely-bound books and, frankly, a bunch of junk. Yoda clearly hadn’t deemed it important or relevant. Luke had already been making his way through the texts Yoda had prized based on where they’d been stored, yet Luke was equally fascinated with the artifacts that Yoda had dumped aside. One man’s trash…

...was hard to read. 

The sketched-in diagrams helped, but the messy Corellian script was not the easiest to decipher. It was written in the first person, by a Jedi named Balsara, and the entries were separated by date more often than by topic. Luke had surmised the journal to be something more akin to a personal diary than any published work. Still, it was interesting. Luke had no other Jedi to talk to, and reading the musings and preferred meditation rites of this random past Jedi Knight made Luke feel closer to his legacy. 

“Read me a passage,” Din said suddenly. Despite the lack of a ‘please’, Luke took it as the request that it was. It was obviously made out of boredom, as the man was tracing circles on the rocky floor with a twig. 

Luke squinted at the page under his thumb. “It’s some kind of ritual. I haven’t been able to parse all the words on this page yet, but the name translates roughly to ‘getting to know you.’ So it’s perfect for us.”

Din made a soft grunt of agreement, and Luke was embarrassed by the way the low sound made him ache. He _really_ needed to get a handle on his attraction if Din was going to be sticking around for any longer. It had been weeks, and Luke’s sensitivity to the man’s every sound and movement was only heightening, his mind stubbornly fixating on impossible possibilities. 

_Attune to the present,_ Luke’s master’s voice rang in his mind. He _was_ attuned to the present. It’s just that his present happened to be a series of waking hours spent at the side of a quiet, kind, beautiful warrior who was _exactly Luke’s type._

Luke cleared his throat and read aloud, “Two celestial warriors meet before the battle, donning their mail and metal. The sun says to the lunar--oh, moon, sorry. The sun says to the moon, drink this wine and be mine before the war forever spins us apart, lost to eternal unknowingness. Know me now. Fast. Don’t wait. Say the words. Speak the spell. Be the vessel for my rays. Touch my fire…” Luke trailed off, shifting under his robes that felt suddenly too stifling. Why oh why did he manage to find a passage that was so…

“This is a Jedi text?” Din asked, voice dripping with wry judgment. 

“More like a diary,” Luke explained, feeling the flush overtake his neck and cheeks. He closed the journal and sighed. He should have perused the pages for a more suitable excerpt. There _were_ cool things in it, like meditations on the Unifying Force and recipes for intriguing-sounding drinks. One of them called for a _lot_ of cocoa. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Luke glanced at Din, who had stretched out his legs and reclined back on his elbows. Luke licked his lips. “Alright. Let me find a better passage.”

“No need,” Din said dismissively. 

Did Din _want_ to hear Jedi Knight Balsara’s attempts at erotic poetry? Or did he just not care and figured it’d be boring enough to put him to sleep so he could wait out the rainstorm? “Alright,” Luke said again, reopening the journal and looking for where he’d left off. “T-t-touch my fire. Let the flames drown out the, uh, not-knowingness, and make unknown known.” Luke flipped to the next page and saw it was some kind of call and response. “Um, repeat the words and consent to my...will? Passion?” It was some sort of compound word, tripping him up, but he read on, and the script below was much neater and simpler. And it started with a _very_ familiar phrase that made Luke grin. “Do or do not.” Luke paused to let the memory wash over him, like the rain still washing over the side of their little haven. 

“Do or do not.”

Luke jerked his chin up from the journal to stare at Din, who had folded his hands behind his helmet. Din was participating in this? With his ridiculously sexy voice? Luke was going to combust. “Accept my offering.”

“Accept my offering.”

“Let the fire consume the unknowing.”

“Let the fire consume the unknowing.”

Luke’s toes _curled,_ and he was vaguely cognizant that some of the pebbles around him began to float. The Force whispered in a language unlike any Luke was accustomed to. As he looked out through the backside of the waterfall, he felt both separated from his body and hyperaware of it at the same time. He read on, as if compelled to complete the bizarre incantation.

“Replacing word with will/passion so the vessel may halve the burden.”

“Replace word with will’n passion so the vessel may halve the burden.”

Hearing the word ‘passion’ come out of Din’s vocoder did absolutely _sinful_ things to Luke’s body. It was so distracting that he didn’t perceive the way the humid air changed around him. And given that Din was covered helm to toe, he couldn’t have noticed the way Din’s skin started to glow.

“Join and be known.”

“Join and be known.”

The mood was hypnotically erotic, casting a shroud that had Luke falling, falling, falling. His vision blurred, and his mind became cloudy. The sparkling mist of the waterfall draped like a shiny film over his thoughts. Only one thought remained, if it could even be called a thought. It was more like an instinct. A need. A need for _Din._

The journal fell out of Luke’s hands and into his lap, forgotten. 

He _reached_ for Din.

And Din reached back. 

Through the haze of fog, there was one bright spot, one bright _being,_ and it was _Din Din Din Din Din--_

Luke was rolled onto his back. His robe was pushed from his shoulders and unceremoniously bunched up like a blanket beneath him. Luke flailed to get his arms untucked from the sleeves, wanting to help take it _off,_ but Din’s body blocked him, and Luke was too busy gasping and staring at the t-shaped visor looming above him.

 _Oh Force, oh Force--_ “Din,” he whined, bucking up his pelvis as gloved hands scrabbled at his belt. The sound of the metal clasp coming undone was loud in Luke’s ears, rising above even the thunderous pounding of the falls and the rain.

Luke’s entire body hummed like a live wire as Din pulled him out of his pants, a chill running through him as he was exposed to the sultry, muggy air. The chill wasn’t attributable to any actual temperature change. It was something else, something--

Luke groaned a tortuous sound when Din’s fist wrapped around his length, dry but firm and unyielding. He could _die_ from the desire coiled in him, blissfully happy, and yet...a flare in the back of his neck where his full-body shudder peaked alerted him that something was _off._ But for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what. What could be wrong in the universe when Din was tearing off his own gloves and pressing his fingers to Luke’s lips, seeking entry.

Luke sucked on Din’s fingers, circling around the digits with his tongue. He felt full, as if Din was everywhere, surrounding him and penetrating him like the very energy field that Luke always sought for, always yielded to. He yielded now to the insistent pressure of Din’s fingers, his hips, and the husky murmurs of Luke’s name, which spilled like a prayer from his lips. 

“Din!” Luke arched and threw his head against the bunched-up hood of his robe when Din’s now-wet fingers stroked him. The touch was too reverent at first, too gentle, before picking up pace and slip-sliding in white-hot pleasure, demanding Luke’s hips thrust to meet his exertions, as if he could pull Luke’s soul out of his body from the root. 

Whimpering, Luke made more of an effort to free his arms from his sleeves. But Din was pressed so close, trapping him with barely enough space between them for the furtive motions of his wrist as he stroked Luke’s hardness. Din’s other hand was splayed above Luke’s shoulder, straining, the muscled arm being the only thing holding him back from crushing Luke. Luke wanted to pull him closer still, not caring about the layer of smooth beskar between them. He wanted to be crushed beneath Din, wanted to feel him every place where the fire licked across his body. Everywhere. All of him. He was so hot with passion he burned with it. 

It was agony when Din stopped touching him. But through his blurry vision, he could make out Din’s one-handed fumbling with the fastenings of his own pants. Luke watched, transfixed, as Din succeeded in pushing his pants down his hips, just enough to reveal his heavy, leaking cock. _Gorgeous._

Din rearranged himself until he was able to stroke them together. His hand was barely big enough to accommodate their combined girths. Undaunted, Luke thrust into it, loving the way Din’s cock slid against his own. He imagined flipping them over and burying himself in Din’s heat. 

Din’s rhythm stuttered. He grunted with effort, maybe frustration. Luke wanted to help him, wanted the haze he was riding to buoy Din too, to overtake them both. _Whatever you want,_ he wanted to say. But his overriding desire was to be inside him. He wanted to be inside Din so much.

The grip on his cock tightened to an almost painful degree, making Luke yelp. Din _growled_ before sliding back onto his haunches, sitting up and using both hands to try to work his pants down lower. With his legs spread on either side of Luke’s hips, there was no way he could get them any further unless he--

Luke heard a loud _rip._

He stared in shock. _Kriffin’ hell,_ did Din just rip his own pants apart so he could fuck Luke? 

Luke was dumbstruck with arousal watching Din rifle desperately through his pouches and pockets, looking for something. He found what he was looking for, and shaking hands tore open a silver packet. Luke moaned seeing glistening wetness begin to slip from Din’s palm, coating his fingers and dripping down. A few drops fell onto Luke’s neglected cock, and Luke cried out at the sensation. Din’s thumb swiped across his throbbing dick, rubbing in the spilled drops of slickness to messily combine with Luke’s pre-come. But after two firm strokes, he backed off again. 

At first, Luke wondered if Din was going to leave him like that, fully hard and writhing. Din was panting through his helmet’s vocoder, and Luke could feel the trembling of his thighs and slight rolling movements of his hips. _Oh._ He realized where Din’s fingers had disappeared to. 

Luke wished he could see more, wished he could give hands-on help, wished they were _naked,_ but his gaze kept returning to Din’s delectable-looking cock that bobbed proudly while his fingers worked out of sight. Luke suddenly wanted nothing more than to take Din in his mouth. He had to taste the fire flowing through Din’s veins. 

With Din preoccupied, Luke wiggled until he was able to bend his arms and free them from where they’d been trapped in his robes. He grabbed Din’s thighs and encouraged him to shuffle forward until his cock was in front of Luke’s parted lips. Luke breathed hotly over Din’s cock before licking his lips and taking him in his waiting mouth.

Din’s groans were rewarding. Luke hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder. His hands slid down until his fingers were digging into the shapely curve of Din’s ass, encouraging Din to thrust against his face.

Too soon, Din was shifting back, and Luke released him reluctantly. When Din gripped Luke’s hard-on and positioned himself above him, Luke’s only thought was that Din couldn’t _possibly_ have prepared himself enough to be sinking down onto Luke’s cock with such perfect, sweet steadiness. But that’s exactly what he was doing, and the slide into him felt like it went on forever, electrifying every nerve ending in hot pulses that were dizzying. Luke stared up at Din’s visor, seeing right through it, seeing _Din,_ joined and chasing away the unknown. 

Din started to move, rolling his hips slowly at first and then faster, taking Luke deeper. Hitched breaths gave way to breathy moans, and Luke drank up every sound, every twitch and stutter of his hips. 

He thrashed, letting Din set the pace as they moved together, the burden of Luke’s desire shared between them like drinking from the same cup of wine, the heady taste of it overwhelming all six of Luke’s senses. He was hurtling forward too quickly towards climax, unable to ground himself. He was lost in the pleasurable heat of Din’s body. 

Luke came with a shout, surging up and wrapping his arms around Din. His release triggered Din’s own. The low groans of Luke’s name over and over rushed across Luke’s skin like wildfire, doing nothing to cool his ardor even as they both shook in the aftermath, catching their breaths, still tangled in each other. 

And then, it was like a fog was lifted. 

A spell broken. 

Luke’s mind cleared, leaving him caught between swells of joy and panic.

Din leaned towards Luke and cupped his chin. He _rumbled_ and tipped his helmet gently against Luke’s forehead, the cool metal kissing Luke’s skin like a balm. Or a benediction. Maybe it meant Din was going to forgive him for...whatever this was. Maybe they were going to be okay, despite Luke’s complete and total fuck-up. 

Din separated from Luke, easing backwards until he was sitting on Luke’s calves rather than his hips. Luke watched, frozen to the spot, as Din tried and failed to tuck his spent cock back into his ruined pants. Words failed Luke. But he sat up, hitching up his own pants so that his butt wouldn’t be on the damp ground as he pushed his robes towards Din, who bunched the fabric around his hips but otherwise remained still, helmet tilted down at Luke in silent assessment. 

Uncountable moments passed, marked only by the rush of the waterfall and the rain. 

“Oh _Force,_ I am so, so sorry,” Luke finally said, as he was doused with the reality of the mess his ignorance about the Force ritual had wrought. If Din packed up and flew away tonight, it would be entirely Luke’s fault for dabbling in something he didn’t understand. “I don’t know what came over...I don’t know what that _was._ I swear that will _not_ be on any Jedi lesson plan. Not ever.”

Din didn’t respond at first, and even Luke’s guilt couldn’t squash his disappointment that Din was _still_ wearing his helmet even after they’d utterly lost control. They hadn’t even _undressed._

Din suddenly grabbed Luke’s elbow in a vice-like grip. “Swear you won’t do that ritual with _anyone else.”_

Luke’s face flushed with shame. He’d embarrassed himself and the Jedi way. And for all that Luke had thought maybe it was going to be okay between them, because afterwards Din had _purred_ and _ached_ for him and _kissed_ his forehead with his helm...it all came crashing down. This hadn’t been consensual. This hadn’t been anything but Luke imposing his will on another. And now that he was himself again, Din must be _outraged._ Dark, aggressive emotions swirled around the man, but Luke was hesitant to explore them any further. He’d done enough already.

And then Din spoke. “Swear you’ll only ever do that with _me.”_

Luke’s stomach flipped over itself, and he became lightheaded, almost as much as when he’d been under the influence of the ritual. The surprise of Din’s response led him to reach out with his senses, and he tasted not anger or regret but _possessiveness_ flitting around the edge of Din’s mind, which explained the dark shade to his thoughts. 

“Say you’re mine,” Din urged.

Luke should stop this in its tracks. He’d started something he couldn’t finish. But instead he closed his eyes and whispered a faint “yes” that was as much an expression of amazed relief as agreement. 

Impossibly, Din gripped Luke tighter. His other hand came up to tug at Luke’s overgrown bangs, the gesture affectionate but proprietary. “Say it.”

“Yes,” Luke vowed, letting the fire consume him until the flames made him known. “I’m yours.”


	2. Ending Version 1 - Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ben, what do you do if you’re worried you’ve used the darkside of the Force to make your boyfriend fulfill all of your sexual fantasies?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the classic movie Clue with its multiple endings? Here’s how it might have ended Version 1, a.k.a the happy ending. This is written in a rather silly, irreverent style, so just go with it.

Luke had some _concerns_ about his and Din’s relationship. 

That’s not to say that things weren’t going well.

In fact, things with Din were going perfectly. Maybe too perfectly. And because Luke’s life was usually a trainwreck, especially his personal life, that perfection was the main source of his persistent—and surely Force-induced—migraine.

Luke had dumped the diary in favor of scouring _legitimate_ Jedi learning materials. He searched for anything about binding rituals, love bonds, or any other adjective-noun combination that might shed insight into whether his massive fuck-up had actually ruined their lives or not. All he found was something about dyads, which didn’t seem applicable because Din wasn’t Force sensitive. But Luke was plagued by the very real possibility that he’d somehow overridden Din’s mind—whether in the moment or worse, _permanently._ And frankly, it was kriffing hard to tell if there was anything wrong between them or not.

Din was frustrating like that.

Not because the Mandalorian was hard to read. He wasn’t. But because whenever Luke tried to talk to him about it, he got the same brushed-off responses: 

> _I wanted you_ before _your little erotic poetry reading._
> 
> _I know I tease you about your Jetii sorcery, but you don’t actually believe in magic spells, do you?_
> 
> _I’ll grant that it was a little abrupt, a bit rushed even. But you did not do anything I didn’t want you to do. I know my own mind, Luke._

And then Din would put the moves on him and fuck his concerns out of his mind. At least for a few hours. 

Still, even if Luke was never able to fully sort out his misgivings about their waterfall sexcapade, the least Luke could do was test for whether Din was _presently_ under some kind of mental duress. 

So, he tried some persuasion. 

Nothing sexual. Nothing serious. Just...wouldn’t it be nice to have a cup of matcha tea right now, so Din won’t you be a dear and get some for me? Or, the jungle’s really hot, so why don’t you unzip that flightsuit and let it hang at your hips? (Okay, so maybe some of it was borderline sexual.) Luke deliberately didn’t _push_ the suggestions at Din with the Force. Not at first go, anyway. After thinking the suggestions, he gave them a little _nudge_ with the Force. When no tea was forthcoming, and Din remained stubbornly buttoned up from head-to-toe despite the oppressive humidity, Luke was left to concede a null result. But he still wasn’t willing to absolve himself completely. 

He’d been _sure_ he’d felt affected by more than lust that day. He’d been _sure_ that Din had responded to his every fantasy rather than the give-and-flow of a natural sexual encounter. But he couldn’t prove it. 

It was a classic chicken-and-egg problem. Din insisted everything was fine. But if Luke had messed with his mind, then Din’s insistence on anything was suspect. 

Din seemed to think it was funny sometimes. Or that Luke himself was funny. Luke questioned Din whether ripping his pants had been a rational choice or whether Din would ever be that desperate to ride Luke—especially since Luke had sussed out a _possible_ preference of Din's for the other way around once Luke had discovered the joys of bottoming, which, okay, _wow—_ but his questioning only resulted in a marathon session in which Din rode Luke for what seemed like hours. The show of stamina was impressive, even if it was the product of amused spite. 

Spite sex. That was new to Luke’s repertoire, too.

As Din wringed orgasm after orgasm out of him, it became harder and harder to worry about their first time. It was much easier to lie back and think of the New Republic— _k_ _idding,_ Din, _kidding._ Despite keeping the helmet on, Din had quickly developed quite the ego about his performance in this new arena. The more Luke expressed any concern, the more determined Din became to screw it away. Literally.

And that was...fine. Divine, really. But Luke felt _guilty_ about it. 

And that’s how he found himself doing the thing he really, really didn’t want to do.

_“Ben, what do you do if you’re worried you’ve used the darkside of the Force to make your boyfriend fulfill all of your sexual fantasies?”_

Instead: “Master, sorry to bother you, I know our little chats are coming to an end, but is there any truth to stories about spoken bonding rituals? And if so, are they just temporary in-the-moment things, or can they have lasting effects?”

Fingers drummed against a white-bearded chin. “I’m not familiar with anything like that. But a true Force compulsion generally only works on a weak mind. And to make it last beyond a moment takes a considerable degree of skill and malice. Do you believe the person who experienced the bonding to be weak-willed?”

“No,” Luke shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. But what if they were sort of _primed_ for it? Like they were interested in the thing that the Jedi wanted, even if it wasn’t something they’d been ready to act on, or if it wasn’t the way they’d have gone about it themselves?”

“You fear the Force tipped the balance in your favor?”

“Something like that.” Luke squirmed under Ben’s thoughtful gaze. Ben’s visits had been few and far between lately as he transcended towards becoming one with the Force. He was no longer around to bear witness to Luke’s daily triumphs and travails, much less the lightspeed jump he and Din had made from training partners to paramours. 

“Was the ritual two-sided?” Ben asked.

“The other person wasn’t a Jedi, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I mean was it mutually participatory? Whatever started it?”

Luke nodded. “There was a call and response, willingly spoken by both parties, though not necessarily with any serious intent. The whole thing had been a lark. But I thought I _felt_ something shift in the Force.”

“Tell me.”

Luke sighed and sat down next to Ben on the fallen log. “It felt like being underwater? Or being drugged? Like a hazy film had fallen over my mind, blocking everything else out. And it seemed to be the same for the other person. Everything I thought about wanting, he gave. Does that...make sense?”

“It does not sound overtly sinister,” Ben mused. “Yet I can see why it gives you pause, especially given that there was no external source?”

“Like a pollen or actual drug? No, nothing.”

“Perhaps you simply allowed the sensations you were experiencing to overwhelm you? The Force is a powerful ally, and stretching out with your feelings can risk feeling _too much._ Those feelings must find expression somewhere.”

Luke frowned. “You’re describing something like...emotional spillover? As a byproduct of being _too_ attuned?”

“Your father was a vergence in the Force. He felt the Force and his emotions quite keenly. You may as well. But it is not necessarily owed to the darkside. Sharing is not always an imbalance of power. A person can _choose_ to be open to experiencing things through another’s eyes.” Ben turned to him. “You may just have to trust this other person’s judgment on the matter.”

“I just feel responsible,” Luke admitted. “I can’t shake the feeling that I took advantage. That everything between us is clouded by the darkside.”

“It could be.”

“It could be?” Luke repeated hollowly. “That’s helpful. Thanks.”

“You already know the Jedi teachings on attachments. What you do with that knowledge is up to you. But worrying about it may only make it worse. Fear of loss is what leads to suffering, not accidentally telepathically telling your lover how you like to be touched.”

Luke’s jaw dropped. He spluttered.

Ben chuckled. “I have been distant, not absent, my young friend. The very fact that you worry assures me that you are not on a dark path. Your belief in others’ goodness is a testament to your strength and theirs, not your weakness. I’ve given you all the teachings you need, and from here, you must find your own path.”

Luke nodded, but his tongue was still tripping over the telepathic sex thing. How _embarrassing._ “I will, uh, endeavour to honor your teachings, Master.”

Ben smiled. “I know you will.”

All mortification aside, Luke felt better after talking to Ben. The following week, he had a lightness in his step that both Grogu and Din responded to, like sunflowers bending to the path of the sun. Luke focused on training and stopped testing whether he could use the Force to prod Din to do things or not do things. (Mostly. There was an incident with a tentacled spider that Din wanted to squash and Luke wanted to adopt, and suffice to say the spider was now in a terrarium getting handfed anything that Grogu didn’t manage to swallow first.) Luke and Din continued to have mind-blowing sex, and Luke tried not to have a complex about it. 

Din still had a tendency to be very possessive, but Luke was relieved to find it was reserved to the bedroom and did not extend to any unprompted displays in front of visitors, who were few and far between anyway. At one point, Han and Chewie came by to drop off supplies and say hello. Rather than get territorial, Din had retreated so effectively that Luke had to play bounty hunter to track him down so the four of them could play doubles dejarik. (And no, he did not need Han to go ‘stag hunting’ and shoot Din in the ass with his new stunner crossbow, thank you very much.) Din didn’t know the chess game well, but he knew Shyriiwook, so Luke put him on Chewie’s team to ensure a win. Later that night, Din’s smugness over winning was so unfounded that Luke refused to put out until Din admitted that he’d basically spectated and had no hand in what was clearly _Chewie’s_ victory. As a concession to his honesty, Luke then let him put his hand anywhere he wanted. Luke was glad Han and Chewie had stayed in the Falcon that night rather than the spare room. Sometimes he got a little loud.

As more time passed, Luke got used to a new sense of belonging. They were a family now, or a _clan,_ as Din liked to say. They exchanged some rather serious-sounding vows, Din took off his helmet, and then Din tattooed a mudhorn on Luke’s upper arm in roughly the same spot where it emblazoned Din’s pauldron. It became Din’s favorite spot to kiss him, and Luke felt a thrill every time Din’s blunt fingernails dug into the skin there as he whispered “mine” into Luke’s ear like it was really true. 

And maybe Luke had started this. And maybe it hadn’t been exactly aboveboard. But he was happy to be Din’s, and Din seemed equally happy to be Luke’s. And Knight Balsara’s diary stayed buried in the sock-drawer, only to be brought out on special occasions like Luke’s birthday, because Din had read something on the holonet about ‘birthday sex,’ and that became another new thing in Luke’s repertoire. Through it all, the Force hummed around them, alive and full of light, and Din kissed Luke every day just the way Luke liked. 


End file.
